


Baby, You’re a Firework

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [72]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Edge is secretly a saint, Established Relationship, Fireworks, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 09:28:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19461157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Every year the city of Ebott has a 4th of July festival and Edge is taking Stretch.Please save him.





	Baby, You’re a Firework

* * *

Every year since Monsters came to the surface, and surely many years before that, Ebott city held a festival for the Fourth of July. 

A carnival would set up in town and crowds of Humans and some of the braver Monsters would go to spend time with family and friends, a day filled with food, frenzy, and laughter for all.

As far as Edge was concerned, it was misery incarnate. 

Nothing less than grease-coated nightmare to be endured and it was only his love for Stretch that had him sullenly standing in line at the ticket booth, ignoring the curious looks from the Humans around him.

It made him wish Jeff was further along in his recovery, because at least if he and Antwan were with them it would be a shared misery. But even out of the hospital, Jeff was still spending most of his time lying down, shuffling between the sofa and the bathroom while Blue fussed over him. 

True to his nature, Blue had pointed out that he was the best option for Jeff, as he could take time off work easier than anyone else and was familiar with caring for a sick person. He’d run roughshod over any arguments to the contrary, mostly Antwan’s, and Jeff had been quickly installed into Stretch’s old room to be coddled by one rather short, very determined skeleton.

Not that it hadn’t been terribly amusing to watch Blue successfully argue the case for him being caretaker over a lawyer, it certainly was. If nothing else came from that awful night, he could find amusement in that and even Jeff seemed bemused by the various people arguing over him.

So it had been decided, mostly by Blue, that Jeff was staying with him for the time being as he recovered, and while Stretch usually chafed at his brother’s fussing, for now Jeff seemed to bask in it, along with Antwan and Stretch’s daily visits. 

Ah, and there was something else curious to consider. 

It was their turn at the ticket booth and Edge absently handed the Human several bills, accepting the paper wrist bands they held out in exchange. He fastened one to his own wrist before putting one on his impatiently bouncing husband. But his thoughts were still in their friends. 

There was something going on between Jeff and Antwan that Edge didn’t quite have a bead on, something that left Antwan quieter than his normal self, often sleeping over at Blue’s on the sofa rather than walking the few minutes it would take to return to his own home. The sofa was at Blue’s insistence that Jeff was still too hurt for shenanigans, as he put it, and Antwan hadn’t argued. But he stayed and Edge didn’t blame him for it. Nothing could have torn him from Stretch if the situation was reversed. His unnatural quietness, though, that was a concern. Was it trauma from the incident, stress from the sudden increase in his workload, something else entirely?

Honestly, Edge needed to corner Antwan soon and get a few answers about that, but for now, he simply needed to survive the festival. The moment his wristband was secure, Stretch was off, Edge reluctantly at his heels over the muddy fairgrounds.

That alone was proof that even if they’d smuggled Jeff away from Blue’s hovering, he probably wouldn’t have enjoyed much from his constantly stuck wheelchair anyway. Edge could only resign himself to the day, sardonically grateful that at least his years in Underfell had given him excellent endurance. 

From all appearances, he’d need it.

The normally enjoyable sunshine became welter of heat beating down on the tents and booths. Gratingly cheerful music poured from speakers that seemed to be everywhere, loud enough to be heard over the many chattering patrons.

Concession sellers hawking their wares shouted into the crowds about ice cold lemonade and beer, while others pitched cotton candy and corn dogs. The overwhelming smell of hot grease seemed to coat the very air, clinging stickily no matter where they walked. Each booth was covered with garish advertisements showing cobs of corn dripping with butter, ungodly desserts dipped into fry batter, and people crowded beneath striped awnings for whatever food on a stick they craved. 

The pictures were awful enough but to see the other patrons stuffing such monstrosities into their mouths with relish was enough to make Edge choke back a gag.

Stretch loved all of it, of course. 

He fit in entirely too well with the crowd, carrying a bag with goggle-eyed goldfish covering it slung over one shoulder, filled with stars-knew what. His tank top was scrawled with ‘I Flexed and the Sleeves Fell Off’, which prompted many a glance at his slender, skeletal arms. Unremarkable baggy shorts showed off similar legs, with bright green crocs on his feet, easily Edge’s least favorite item in his wardrobe. His own sedate jeans and a plain t-shirt garnered no looks past the fact he was a Monster, but he was well accustomed to those glances.

The real chore of the day was keeping Stretch in sight, a surprisingly difficult task considering how they both towered over most of the crowd. Keeping an eye on Stretch was second nature by now, but adding in Humans who’d consumed stars only knew much alcohol upped the challenge. Stretch’s eagerness was also an effective escape mechanism, and he could be surprisingly eely in a crowd, weaving through without so much as brushing elbows while Edge was forced to push onward with muttered apologies, a steamroller chasing after a dirt bike.

The easiest way to slow him down was to overcome his distaste long enough to fill Stretch’s arms with things to carry. Soon a bag of somewhat mangled pink and blue spun sugar hung from one hand, a corn dog dripping with honey gripped in the other. 

There were downsides to that technique; the extra sugar didn’t offer any benefit to slowing him down and while Stretch knew better than to offer Edge any, he could never help himself when it came to grabbing Edge’s arm in excitement whenever he saw something of interest, and the row of sticky handprints trailing down his sleeve to his arm was evidence of that.

Stretch never had qualms about stopping to chat with Humans who knew him from Twitter. Pausing for selfies. Offering the dogs roaming the fairgrounds with their masters a biscuit hastily dug from his bag, even as they strained eagerly for the remains of his corn dog. Or perhaps it was an attempt to nibble on his finger bones, either was possible.

It was difficult to stand back and watch, but Edge did, his awareness of how close these unknown Humans were to his husband battling with the softness in his soul at Stretch’s laughter.

Eventually, they made their way down a pathway that led to a crowded row of so-called games where gaudy prizes dangled temptingly from booths. Years of experience with traps and puzzles made it obvious to Edge’s shrewd eye lights that every game was rigged and very few of those large prizes would be ending up in anyone’s arms.

Why anyone would want a sawdust-filled Spongebob knockoff was past Edge’s understanding anyway…so of course Stretch announced, “i need one.”

Unfortunately, his skill with crane machines didn’t translate well to tossing rings or throwing darts at balloons, and the sag in Stretch’s shoulders as they walked away from yet another game without a cheap prize made Edge reluctantly offer, “Would you like me to try?” 

For one, he didn’t have any qualms about cheating in an unfair game.

“no,” Stretch said stubbornly. “i can win my own prize.”

That prophecy refused to come true until they reached a booth with a kiddie pool. Swirling through the flimsy plastic pond was a flock of bedraggled rubber ducks, paint flaking from their faces. A young Human who looked as greasy as the corn dogs called them over, waving a hand at the pool. 

“Easy, peasy, pick a duck, win a prize, duck down and try your hand,” he warbled. Edge wondered idly how anyone could talk that fast without breathing. “Everyone’s a winner here!” 

The bill Stretch held out was quickly tucked into his apron, and Stretch crouched low, studying each duck with fierce intensity. Next to him, a toddler chose a duck and crowed in delight as he was handed a toy that probably had a list of warnings longer than Edge’s arm.

“rubber ducky, which is the one, gonna pick one and have some fun...” Stretch sang under his breath. Finally, he plucked one dripping from the pond. A number scrawled on the bottom in faded sharpie had the Human digging in to a bucket and soon Stretch had a keychain of a ghastly plastic cactus dangling proudly from a belt loop.

Ah, well, at least it wasn’t a clown. Or Spongebob.

Then there were the rides. Just looking at them was chilling and Edge could only wonder when they’d last been properly maintained. Parents who would never dream of allowing their children to step a foot outside of a crosswalk were eagerly shuffled them into these death traps managed by teenagers who looked as if they’d graduated high school as recently as that day.

Still, Edge would have gone on those horrors himself, if only to keep Stretch in close reach, but simply watching the twirling cars was enough for nausea to lurch in him. 

If a shortcut could send him dashing to the nearest toilet, Edge wasn’t about to press his luck with something called ‘The Zipper’.

It left him as both observer and coat rack, holding Stretch’s bag as he stood in line for each one, bouncing on his toes and chatting with the people surrounding him, taking selfies with many of them.

Watching Stretch on the ride was nearly as bad as being on it himself. Usually the sound of his delighted laughter raised Edge’s own happiness. Today, it was an effort to force himself to watch, swallowing back nausea as he stared at swinging ships and whirling platforms.

He was even forced to beg off on the bumper cars, watching as Stretch was crammed into a tiny car, his knees bent nearly to his skull. His attempt at driving brought a great deal of understanding as to why he’d chosen not to get his license.

A low-key headache was starting to throb faintly as he followed Stretch through the crowd after the last ride, a grim march onward to the end.

It wouldn’t be for much longer; the sun was going down, taking with it some of the heat, and the rides were starting to come alive with lights. Soon, the fireworks would begin and after that was the blissful quiet of home.

That headache was looming ominously. Perhaps he could persuade Stretch to step to the outskirts for a moment? If he suggested a smoke break it would be suspicious, but perhaps—

“let’s hit up the 4-h tent, babe, check out the animals?”

Or they could do that. Edge sighed inwardly and followed him mutely along to his doom.

Inside the stifling tent was the overwhelming smell of animals and their waste, along with groups of children either squalling to pet something, squalling from exhaustion, or simply squalling to add a new layer of pressure to Edge’s incipient headache. 

The last one was probably untrue but it certainly felt that way.

Normally Edge was fond of children, but those ice-pick shrieks were everywhere, the crowds keeping them from catching more than a glimpse of any animals. It seemed too much for even Stretch and they exited quickly on the other side of the tent. 

Edge took a deep breath of slightly cooler air as they stepped out. There was a hand washing station set up nearby and more parents grimly scrubbing their children clean of accumulated filth. The water was tepid but Edge didn’t care, stripping off his gloves to scrub past his elbows, indulging in the bliss of soap.

That Stretch willingly stood next to him and did the same meant either he was finally managing to impart some cleanliness standards into him, or possibly that Stretch simply loved him enough to do it without being asked. Edge would be happy with either.

Better was Stretch digging through his bag and pulling out a fresh pair of gloves for him. Edge pulled them on with a sigh of relief while Stretch rolled up the sweaty pair into a ball and stuffed them away.

“are you having fun?” Stretch asked. He scrabbled into the bag again and came out with a bottle of relatively cool water, handing it over. 

Lying was not a skill that came easily to Edge, but he couldn’t bear to rupture the hopefulness of that expression. He stalled, taking a long drink from the water bottle before he temporized, “I always have fun with you.”

The lopsided smile said he was less than successful, but the soft kiss he was granted meant the effort was appreciated. 

“yeah, no. you’re sweet, but i can almost see the dust from grinding your teeth.” Stretch caught hold of his elbow with a freshly washed hand. “c’mon, let’s get out of here.”

Edge resisted. “You wanted to see the fireworks.”

“and you are gonna get a headache if we stay longer. i had fun today, babe, let’s end it on a good note?”

He hesitated. Leaving sounded like a gift, but the day was never meant for him. Yet if they stayed and he ended up with a miserable headache, the misery wouldn’t be only his. “All right.”

The walk to the car was a quick one and so was their exit. There were few other cars on the streets; it seemed most of the city was still at the festival. The cooler darkness was already easing away his headache, the rush of the wind soothing. 

Next to him, Stretch sprawled back in the seat, staring lazily up at the darkened sky where stars were beginning to twinkle above them. Soon it would be filled with fireworks, sprays of color painted against the velvet night, and Stretch was going to miss it. 

Or...

With the top down and the sun finally gone, the breeze was glorious but they didn’t experience it for long. Edge turned into the entrance of a Jamba Juice, parking in the furthest part of the lot away from the straggle of other cars.

“did you want a drink?” Stretch sat up, confused.

“No. Just wait.”

His timing couldn’t have been better. In the distance came a boom, then the crackle of fireworks exploding across the sky, soaring overtop the trees. The cacophony was muted but the show was no less brilliant. 

Nor was the soft delight on Stretch’s face, and Edge’s attention was split between the sparkling sky and his husband’s quiet enjoyment. Slender fingers caught his own and Edge squeezed them gently, then blinked in surprise as they pulled insistently, until he was tugged over the gearshift to the passenger side.

They were slim enough to fit together in the seat without too much discomfort and was worth it to have Stretch snuggle back into his arms.

He sat back and watched the fireworks, breathing in the sweetness of his husband’s scent as he held him, a lovely ending to a long day.

But tomorrow, there was going to be a chat with Antwan and Edge was in no mood to take no for an answer.

-finis-


End file.
